


If I Were A Boy

by zaynfreakingmalik



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, F/M, also written for english class, always a girl!Liam, idk - Freeform, ignore the fact that liam is in fact a boy in real life lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-02
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 05:47:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1027981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaynfreakingmalik/pseuds/zaynfreakingmalik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>if i were a boy i think i could understand how it feels to love a girl someday you wish you were a better man</p><p>or the one in which liam is always being told she should have been born a boy</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I Were A Boy

When I was born-, as my parents like to remind me when they think I’m being ungrateful- I was quite a surprise for them to see. 

Apparently, the doctors had told my parents that I was a boy when they had gotten the ultrasound and sonogram of me, and then imagine the surprise on their faces when they realised I was actually a girl.

Mistakes happen, screw-ups occur. But my parents still loved me, my mum was ecstatic and my dad only jokingly said, with a soft laugh,

"A girl- we're going to have to repaint the nursery and return the clothes.If only she had been born a boy!"

\--

The thing is, when you're in primary school all the girl's favourite colours are pink and all the boy's favourite colours are blue, or green. 

The boys hang out with the boys, the girls hang out with the girls. It's practically a law. 

But honestly, I didn't like sitting on the swing everyday at lunch, or playing Barbie's with the other girls. My favourite colour wasn't pink-- it was white. 

It's hard being in primary school and feeling out of place. Boys thought I was gross, girls thought I was weird.

I ended up spending my lunches by myself, or throwing dirt at the boys who threw it right back. That's just the way it always was.

I made one female friend, her name was Renee, she 'dated' a boy every other day and she had a sparkly, bulky phone with fingernails that always matched. 

When parent- teacher nights came around, Mrs. Holloway told mum that I needed to try to be more social-

I remember distinctly she said to my mother as I sat there, scared I’d get in so much trouble as we drove home,

"The boy's she has no trouble getting along with most of the time. However with the girl's it's a different matter. It's almost as if she's one of the boys herself!"

\--

In high school I was counted as 'one of the guys’, and all the boys seemed to forget that I was actually a girl sometimes. They burped, farted, told disgusting jokes. To begin with they always looked at me after acting crudely, as if they thought I’d act like all the other girls and scrunch up my nose and say "Ewwww!" 

The girls saw how much attention I got from the boys, and this was at the stage when everybody starts whispering and keeping secrets and liking people of the opposite sex. For a long time I didn't like anybody of any sex, and I was worried something was wrong with me too for the first time. 

Feeling like you belong is a must for high school; nobody likes people that stick out from the crowd, girls especially. You have to learn to adapt and change and follow everybody else but also be yourself at the same time. High school is a complicated place.

So after a while, hanging with the guys was fun, but they still acted like I wasn't one of them and I still felt like I didn't belong. Until one day, Niall Horan said a particularly disgusting joke, before shooting me a glance- the boys all chuckled along, obviously trying to hold their laughter back in front of me. I was sick of them walking around me on egg shells, so I opened my mouth and before I could control myself I had added onto Niall's joke, making it even dirtier and worse then before.

A shocked but roaring laugh escaped from all the boys, and as Niall clapped me on the back he was smiling so hard I could almost see his molars. But that didn't stop him from telling me, much to my annoyance;

"That was a good one- told you you're just like one of us!"

\--

The first guy I liked, I liked a lot. It was the first crush I had ever had, and I wasn't sure if it would be reciprocated. Boys usually went for girls who wore pretty dresses, or wore makeup and had painted, pink lips-- I usually wore sweat pants or jersey's- dresses and skirts felt uncomfortable and raw on my skin. So when I caught sight of Zayn Malik while I passed the football around out on the quad at university, I almost dropped the ball. It was so shocking to feel that jolt in my stomach, and I couldn't tear my eyes away from him. I didn't want to get my hopes up though because I thought he'd never notice me, not in a million years, not with all these other girls around who looked beautiful and like little porcelain dolls all the time.

Zayn was the first, last and only guy I ever liked from then on. He smiled so brightly and always put me in a headlock that I could easily get out of. He was just easy to talk to, and he understood me when I talked about how I didn't like the stereotypes about girls. Not all of us are meant to play with Barbie’s, wear frilly dresses and like the colour pink. The fact that we should be like that is imprinted onto our brain at a young age from the fairy tales we read. Why doesn't the princess ever save the prince?

And then I asked him out. Just like that. I was barely nervous, just running on adrenaline. Zayn blinked and had slowly smiled at me, his dimples showing as he shook his head,

"The guys always said you counted as one of us, one of the guys. But for once I’m glad you're not"

\--

Falling in love is something I never saw myself doing, but then I was in my final year at university and had acquired my accounting degree and all I could see was Zayn and the future. I felt disappointed in myself slightly, because I had always vowed to never be one of those girls like off those movies, or my primary school friend Renee, that just obsesses over her boyfriend. It's as if, as soon as most girls get a boyfriend, they drop everything else that mattered to them. 

I still did everything that mattered to me- I played football with the boys, joined a soccer team, got my degree, saw my parents. But then Zayn was added into the equation as well. So when I ran up to the podium, the boys all cheering loudly, on Graduation day-- I saw all my achievements, but I also saw Zayn. I shook hands with the dean, got my certificate and then walked over to the microphone and blurted out,

"Zayn will you marry me?" 

The cheering got even louder, and they boy's all started jumping on Zayn who was laughing, red in the face and smiling broadly, showing off his white teeth. I could hear some of the girl's cooing, and some laughter as some people murmured that I was a girl and I was proposing to my boyfriend instead of vice versa. 

But the truth was, I didn't care about the proposal, or who said it. I just wanted it to happen, and in that moment it felt so incredibly right.

I laughed as I walked off stage, feeling giddy and yanking off my graduation cap. Zayn was attempting to make his way over to me, but one of the boy's still clung to him, yelling in his ear in excitement.

"Your girlfriend just proposed you pansy! She wears the pants in your relationship!"

\--

"Happy anniversary" Zayn had smiled, his fingers looped through my own. 

Belluci's was overly fancy, but it had felt right in the heat of the moment. Especially seeing as it had been three years together, one since getting married. 

Everything felt complete. There's always that one moment in your life where you feel perfectly happy. Where everything fits in place and is right where it should be. 

Sadly, those moments never last. Reality will come and kick you in the teeth and… It sucks. 

But at the same time it doesn't, because you need that kick- so things just don't get boring. Good kicks though, are so much harder to come across then those nasty bad kicks.

For such a fancy place, Belluci's was located in one of the less secure parts of town. 

It's always like that in towns isn't it? Beautiful, fancy, formal places are always so out of place in horrible areas.

I felt like I could relate though, I wasn't fancy or formal and beautiful, and I felt out of place sometimes.

I cuddled closer to Zayn as we walked down the alleyway- I could make out our car, close enough that I could have sprinted to it.

I didn't.

Two men had appeared, they looked drunk by the way they swayed and stumbled, their footsteps clumsy and harsh against the concrete behind us. Zayn tensed up.

My stomach tied itself into knots.

They were talking loudly; I could hear them making crude remarks. But it wasn't like when Niall had said them, they weren't funny.

They were scary.

Then the footsteps came quicker and I could hear running and Zayn cried out as one hit him from behind.

Zayn looked like a puppet as he fell forward.

I barely let out a scream before I felt a hard hit at the back of my own head, falling flat against the concrete.

Waking up in a hospital is the most confusing and scariest thing.

The smell of cleaning products and sterilizer. The squeak of wheels. The low murmur and scratchy feel of sheets. 

My eyes flickered, instant pounding hitting my head. 

I felt different. Wrong. I felt a sob rise up into my throat, painful and big like a lump.

"Zayn…?" I croaked out. A warm hand covered my own- I blinked and squinted against the harsh brightness of the lights.

Rhys smiled down at me. It was a different smile however- as if he was afraid. It reminded me of back in high school when the boys walked on egg shells around me.

"What…" I asked, confused. Zayn shushed me gently,

The uncomfortable feeling was back in full motion and I could feel salty, fat tears rolling down my cheeks as I processed and begun to piece everything together.

Zayn had been brought here because he had been hit and needed a medical kit.

I was here because I had been hit. But I needed a rape kit.

I squeezed my eyes closed desperately, trying to reverse the words, or expel them from my mind altogether. The only thought that came through, sharp and bright like a beacon was the memory of my dad, my primary school teacher, Niall.

Ever since I could remember people had told me I was born wrong and I had never really believed it or wished it.

Until now.

For the first time in my life I bit down my words, and silently thought to myself

If only I had been born a boy.

 


End file.
